


For what it’s worth

by Honeyvalentine



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeyvalentine/pseuds/Honeyvalentine
Summary: Ash Lynx, Shorter Wong, and making the best of their teenage years.(Alternatively titled: the author remembered that Ash and Shorter canonically have a secret handshake and went a little crazy)
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Shorter Wong, kind of - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	For what it’s worth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello sweet lover!! This can be read as romantic or not. I personally read Shorter and Ash’s relationship as life partner esque- whatever that may be. This isn’t explicitly romantic and is more of a grossly sweet friendship fic about our two favorite New Yorkers.  
> It’s written as smaller vignettes to a bigger picture :) I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (Update: I read this back, AND I HATE THIS MF🤬🤬🤬🤬. I feel like it’s written really weird if you have any suggestions on how I can make it sound less off please lmk love and kisses)

Ash flops down, laying on his back, stretching. The way he curls his head against the sheets, shutting his eyes, resembles a cat. Of course he does.

“You tired?” Shorter mumbles, smiling from the doorway. His eyes are still bright, despite the hour they’re up at. 

“I could sleep for days.” Ash sighs. Shorter hums in agreement. It’s been a particularly bad week, they’ve earned it. 

“You wanna borrow some clothes?”

Ash groans, sitting up, he pulls off his jeans before crawling under the blanket.

“I take that as a no.”

“It’s your lucky night.” Ash mumbles. 

Shorter whistles, playfully “Wow. I’ll cherish this forever”

“Don't get any ideas.” Ash hums back. 

“A guy can dream.”

Ash giggles, soft and boyish. Shorter grins at how he moves forward, making room on the mattress. 

Somewhere between gunfire and shitty circumstance, Ash and Shorter are two sixteen year olds at a sleepover. Gravitating towards their shared warmth under the sheets, the intimacy of sharing a bed with your best friend, they can resemble teenagers on a Friday night, in a universe where they study for standardized tests together rather than cry for their mothers in knife fights. 

“Don’t use the pillow if your hair is wet.” Ash scowls, pushing Shorter’s face back with his palm. 

“That’s not fair!”

“You stain everything.” 

“It’s on its third wash, it’s rinsed out by now!”

“We’re sharing dumbass, I wake up with purple hair and I’m shaving your head.”

“Ashhh.” Shorter whines, pouting. How is he going to get bossed around in his own house?!

Ash glares at him, annoyed, before curling his lithe fingers around the back of his neck and guiding him down to rest on his collarbone. 

“Are you serious?!” Shorter grins, pressing himself further into Ash, the soft cotton of his shirt. The blonde curls his arms around him and squeezes. 

“Don't sound so excited. Creep.” Ash deadpans. His tone is bitchy, but he tangles their legs together all the same. 

“Ash is holding me!” Shorter sings, winding his own arms around his friend in response. Forget fist fights and close calls, life is easy.

“Do you want to sleep on the floor?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good.”

Ash smells like the shoplifted bar soap in Nadia’s shower. He’s warm, and Shorter can hear his soft, rabbit heart beat. 

They’re curled into one, holding each other. When they sleep close, it’s usually just soft presses of skin, shoulder to shoulder, an arm around Ash’s waist on hard nights. 

Now, Ash is drawing soft shapes with his fingertips into the back of Shorter’s T-shirt.

  
Something about the action hurts a little, but it’s okay. They’re safe for now. They’re together. Life can be kind. Even to lost causes like them. They can have sweet things. Even if it’s just the scraps they feed each other, they can know compassion before they die. 

“Go to sleep.” Ash mumbles between gentle strokes, kind touches. It’s a stark contrast to the scars littering the skin beneath. Ash sounds soft, tender. A voice exclusive to his short list of loved one. Ash pours into him, chest to chest, like he’s a silver lining. Like he isn’t orphaned, paycheck to paycheck, both wicks long gone at the end of his candle. 

“Goodnight angel.” Shorter smiles, and Ash pinches his side. 

“Melon head.” 

  
—————  
  


“Alright. What can we get for...” Shorter pauses, counting the change him and Ash both dug from their pockets. 

“Looks like we’ve got three dollars!”

“We can share a milkshake.” Ash offers. He kind of wants strawberry. 

“It’s cold, maybe hot chocolate.”

“That sounds better actually.” Ash smiles. “Can we get the cinnamon one?”

“Hell yeah.” Shorter grins. They’re sitting across from each other, there’s very few people in the diner right now. Chang Dai has everything they usually need, but Ash really wants something sweet and Shorter really wants Ash to have a good night.

The waitress is about their age, smiles when they only order one drink. 

“You want whipped cream on that?”

Ash nods, bright, and Shorter almost sighs in relief.

It’s been a stressful string of days, and Ash is finally acting like his Ash. Sweet, sour, lively. 

He hides his terror the best he can, but has to live with the knowledge that someday, Ash might stop bouncing back.

It comes out to 1.77, but they hand her all the coins. 

“Sorry for the shitty tip.” Ash smiles, knowingly. She laughs, “oh, I’ll live.” 

Shorter is resting his head on the table, arms splayed out. 

It’s nice, people are still kind. There is still laughter. Ash still likes whipped cream. 

When she brings the mug, Ash lights up, realizing that she got them a size larger than they paid for. 

“Thank you.” He smiles, head tilted.

“Thanks.” Shorter grins, pushing his glasses down, winking. 

“She did that because I’m cute.” Shorter smiles, Ash grins behind the mug, licking cream from his lip. 

“Cute? In that outfit?”

“You really hate my vest that much?”

“It’s embarrassing. You look like a jackass.”

“I wear it for you, if I dressed all handsome I’d be way out of your league.”

“Aww, thanks Shorter!”

“You’re very welcome.”

Ash smiles, stands and rounds the booth, sitting next to Shorter rather than across. He passes him the cup. 

It’s really good, warm around his hands, and there’s an intimacy in sharing. 

“Don’t eat the cream.” Ash deadpans, taking a sip himself. 

“That's all you.” 

Ash is gazing at the cup, eyes shining, wandering the soft lights of the diner. His legs are curled up on the booth, he’s jeans ripped, shoes coming apart. He has on a black long sleeve, face happy, pretty. It’s refreshing, angelic. Ash looks at the window, Shorter looks at Ash. 

Ash presses the cup back into his hands, a silent ‘have some more’ in the air between them. 

They could’ve asked for an extra mug. 

  
—————  
  


It is, once again, too fucking early. Ash swings open the back door to Chang Dai. 

He hears Nadia scream from the kitchen, something in Cantonese, something about them being closed. He rolls his eyes

“It’s me.”

“Ash! It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, rounding the corner past the line. They hug next to the back entrance, the three compartment sink. Ash looks like he got his shit rocked, but she doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Shorter is upstairs.” 

“Thanks.”

Ash walks down the prep area, leaving the kitchen. The dining room looks strange when it’s empty. Climbing the stairs, he doesn’t bother knocking when he gets to Shorter’s door.

“Look who showed up!” Shorter is of course, awake. 

“Didn’t have many options.” He mumbles, glaring.

“But you chose to see me.” So what if he did.

“Whatever makes you feel better.” Ash retorts. Hard. Bitter. 

“It looks like you got hit by a train. C’mere.” 

Ash sighs, sits down on the rug. It’s been way too long. He hears Shorter kneel down behind him, feels the comb against his scalp. 

“Hmm. You need to cut it soon.” Shorter mumbles. Ash’s hair is fucked up. There’s no part, it’s matted, all over the place. Shorter doesn’t seem to care. 

“That’s what I have you for.” To fix my hair. _To fix what I can’t._

“Glad you have at least one reason to keep me around.” Shorter laughs. Ash’s hair is flat now, a little shiny again. He feels like a doll, but not in the same way he felt like a doll last night. 

“You’re not completely useless.” He replies, shoulders dropping. 

“I’m flattered.”

He shuts his eyes at the soft tugs by his scalp. He can tell Shorter’s braiding it. Good. 

“Just leave some in my face.” He mumbles, he feels Shorter’s gaze on the red marks on his neck. It’s okay. Shorter is the only person who can look. 

“It looks better out of your face.” He comments, voice a little sad. They know what they’re avoiding. 

“You should give me bangs, I’d look cute with a bowlcut.” 

“You better be joking.” Shorter pinches his side. 

It’s quiet. This is the only time where hands are gentle, patient. 

“What are you doing today?” Ash asks. 

“Hm. This. Work.” He pauses, tucking blonde strands back gently. “How was your night?”

“Hm. I’ve had worse.” Ash sighs. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not while it's fresh.”

“That's fine. I’m gonna make you tell me eventually though.” 

“You’re funny.”

“I’m serious. I’ll take shrimp off the menu.”

“You want me to starve?!”

“If that’s what it takes!”

Ash laughs, for the first time since— for the first time in a while. The blood returns to his heart. He remembers what he forgets on weekend nights. That he can heal.

  
  
—————  
  
  
They’re walking down the streets of Chinatown. It’s after dark, and nobody’s out. There’s laughter, playful pushes between the two, when Shorter pauses, turns to Ash.

“Did you hear that?”

“No?”

“Shhh.” Shorter presses a finger to his lips, eyes darting around. They’re met with silence. 

“You’ve gone crazy.” Ash retorts, but his voice is followed up by another sound, a soft, throaty grunt. It’s echoed, coming from inside the concrete. 

Shorter turns on his heel, leans down to the gutter against the sidewalk.

“Don't touch the ground.” Ash chides him, it’s filthy. 

Shorter ignores him though, face breaking into a grin, on his hands and knees now. 

“ _Oh hiii_.” He coos, wiggling his fingers in front of the opening. Ash feels a little breathless.

He stands up, looking at Ash like a little kid. Wordlessly pulls his hoodie over his head, tossing it to him. Ash catches it, there’s something rising in his chest. He wraps Shorter’s jacket around his waist and gets out his flashlight.

“ _Shorter_.” He mumbles, breathless. The kitten is tiny. The smallest thing he’s ever seen. It’s shivering, a little wet, he’s gray and tabby, some orange spots littering his fur. His eyes are wide, and stares up at the flashlight, squinting. 

“I’m gonna try and grab him.”

“ _Please_.” Ash mumbles. He’s shaking a little, it hits him, he’s so small, so tiny. He can’t die here.

“Don't worry, I’ll get him.” 

Shorter lays flat on his chest, reaches his arm down the gutter. He’s pressed up as close as possible to the opening, squeezing his shoulder through. Ash holds the light in one hand, the other hand clutching his chest. His heart is pounding, eyebrows knit together in worry. 

“Can you reach?”

“Yeah—yeah- he’s coming up to me.”

“Grab—grab his neck like the mom does.”

“Got it— got him.” 

Ash let out the breath he was holding, giving Shorter room to scoot back. His shirt is stained with asphalt, it’s ridden up against the street and sidewalk and he has a little road burn. He’s smiling, as he sits up, the cat is held up like a doll from his nape, eyes shut and face pinched back. Shorter holds him to his chest, he settles in on his back like a baby, like he’s tired. He meows, soft and purring. 

“He sounds thirsty.” Ash mumbles, petting the cat himself. They stand for a second, just looking, the sound of crickets, far off cars. Shorter is soft in the moonlight, hair tousled, clothes disheveled, he’s got his glasses in his pocket, forgetting to put them back on. He has a little dirt on his face, and Ash thinks it’s a good thing he always wears sunglasses, his eyes are too gentle. 

“Wanna hold our baby?” Shorter winks, pinching the cat's paw between his fingers.

Ash is too breathless to joke back, he just nods fervently, holds out his arms. Shorter maneuvers the lithe animal down, into a cradle. Ash holds it close, bottom lip jutting out, trying to give the kitten all the warmth in his body.   
_You need it more than me_.

“Let’s take him home.” Shorter smiles, he’s giddy, excited, bouncing like a little kid would, while Ash feels like he’s been punched in the gut, in the best way possible. 

Nadia is asleep, so they can deal with any sort of repercussions tomorrow. Ash feels tiny, as tiny as the cat, looking up at his best friend _with a can we keep him? I’ll take care of him—I promise.  
_Ash has never asked for anything in his life, but will beg on his hands and knees to care for this little creature, it’s childish, pure, and selfless, and he loves his best friend, loves the fun they have, loves the little animal resting in his arms. 

They take the cat up to the bathroom, hushed laughter, whispers. 

“Do we use shampoo or body wash?”

“Do you have cat soap?”

“I literally don’t have a cat.”

“Worth a shot.” Ash mumbles, glaring. Shorter pulls out his phone, shoulder to shoulder, they look down at the screen.

“We can use dish soap!”

“Really?” 

“I’ll go get some from the kitchen.”

Shorter stumbles downstairs, back into the restaurant.

Ash just stands, cradling the cat in his arms. He hears footsteps, looks up, thinking it’s Shorter.

“What are you doing?” Nadia stands, hand presses against the doorway.

“Hey sis.” Ash mumbles, eyes wide. _Fuck._

“You only call me sis when you pull shit like this.” She deadpans, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She’s in a nightshirt, shorts. Both look like they belong to her brother. She’s soft in the bathroom light, squinting. She looks Ash up and down, sighs. 

“Gonna pretend I didn’t see this.” She hums, whispering a string of Cantonese under her breath. Ash catches a few swear words. 

“Night Nadia.” He calls down the hall, after her. 

“Yep.” She mutters, shutting her bedroom door. 

The cat is soft from the bath, curled in a ball on the bed. It’s belly is full of red meat leftovers, there’s a water dish on Shorter’s bedroom floor. Ash lays down next to it, gazing down at the soft, purring animal. It’s sweet, and good, and came from the city just like him. Shorter is sleeping on his back, and Ash is tired too, thinks about getting his hands on a litter box. Goes eight hours without a nightmare. 

  
  
—————  
  


It’s December, and New York City is fucking ruthless. The two of them are on the run right now, holed up in an abandoned building. 

“See- I think I saw on TV that you have to make like a bed for the fire or something.”

“I don’t know? I mean try blowing on it really fast.”

“God- you think they’ll find us at a homeless shelter?”

“That’s a good idea actually…. but we’re pretty far out..”

Shorter drops the lighter, turns to Ash, exhausted.

“Wanna share my hoodie and hope we don’t freeze to death?”

Ash, looking absolutely pissed at the suggestion, pulls his green flannel tighter around his shoulders.

“Fine. But only because it’s snowing.”

“I should be mad. Not you. This is my favorite hoodie.”

“And now it’ll finally be stretched enough to fit your melon head” Ash replies, voice muffled from the inside of Shorter’s jacket. 

His back is to Shorter’s chest, blonde hair making its way through the neck. 

“How funny would it be if Arthur found us like this.” Shorter says, smiling down at the stifled laugh from inside the fabric. 

Ash only pops his head out from the eyes up, tucked under Shorter’s chin, knees against his chest.

“That’s so fucking embarrassing, don’t even joke.”

“He wouldn’t even shoot us.” Shorter jabs, experimentally wrapping his arms around Ash. 

“He wouldn’t be able to. It’s too awkward.” To his surprise, Ash shuts his eyes, and curls into his chest.

“This is like…. Something that would happen in a sitcom.”

“That’s one dark fucking sitcom.” Ash drawls, tiredly.

“Did you hear that Ash? I thought I heard a laugh track just now.”

“No, I’m pretty sure those were crickets.”

Ash smiles, breathing into his hands, green eyes blinking up to his friend. Ash is warm. This was one of Shorter’s better ideas. 

“Really hope Sing doesn’t come looking for us.” The blonde’s mumbles into his collarbone.

“I wish Sing was here. I’d ask him to join.”

“He'd say no and stare at us from across the room.” Ash bites. 

“And then he’d never look at us again.” Shorter laughs, burying his face in the mop of blonde hair. 

“You tired?” Ash asks, breaths evening out. 

“It’s too cold for me to sleep. I’ll stay awake if you wanna rest.”

Ash is quiet for a long moment, as if debating his options. Shorter mentally kicks himself, feeling dumb for assuming Ash would be comfortable letting his guard down right now. His thoughts are interrupted, by a small voice. Tone unreadable.

“Kay. Thanks Shorter.” 

He slowly feels Ash’s full weight press up against him, cheek against his chest. 

Shorter fights the urge to squeeze the life out of him, to hold him so close that he’s untouchable. 

He looks up, zeroing in on the cracks in the ceiling. The faint sound of a drunk argument, police sirens on the street below. 

He looks down at the angel in his arms, expression relaxed, leaning into the hand carding through his hair.

You don’t belong here, in this shitthole. He thinks, stroking his friend, gently. 

Nadia’s exhausted expression flicks through his mind, Sing’s laughter, Skip gripping his hand on their way to Chang Dai. 

God- none of you guys do 

It’s a long night. 

  
—————-

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Shorter smiles, mischievous. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of thinking.” They’re walking side by side, following the crowd. 

“I have my moments.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Well, I don’t have anyone to kiss for New Years—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.”

“You didn’t let me finish!”

“I didn’t like where that thought was going.”

“Worth a shot.”

“I’ll give you that.” 

It’s New Years in New York City, and there’s people everywhere. Ash has an arm rested on Shorter’s shoulder, wearing his jacket.

_We look kind of like a couple right now…_

_It looks like you paid me to escort you._

_Are you really going to make me cry on New Years?_

They sit on the dock, the water is sweet and gentle below. It’s dark outside, 11:57. It’s nice to be seventeen, it’s nice to be seventeen on New Years with your favorite person, your lifelong friend. Ash thinks about the play by play of his life, he thinks about the happy moments, the sad. The year he just managed to survive. He thinks about moments like these, imagines him and Shorter getting ready for their junior prom, wonders if they’d go together. Wonders if they'd slow dance for the hell of it, just so they could say they did.

Ash has been robbed thoroughly of his youth, his first times. Never going to get ready for his first highschool dance in Shorter’s bathroom, never going to go ice skating with his friends, making excuses to hold hands. 

He looks at Shorter, smiling at him, laughing through the countdown. He has not been robbed of everything. 

This is the last time Ash will be seventeen on New Year’s Eve.

_4...3...2..._

He leans forward, presses a kiss to Shorter’s cheek, another to his temple, pulls away, and looks back out into the water. Most couples on the deck are still kissing, and it’s a bit brighter because of the fireworks. Ash feels a little bit like flying.   
it was a warm press of skin, dry and sweet. He tried to communicate the kinder feelings that are harder to say.  
The look on Shorter’s face makes Ash immediately wish that he bit him instead. 

Shorter is giggling behind his hand like a schoolgirl, whining a playful _Ashhh_ ~ into his palm.   
  


_Nobody gets on my nerves the way you do._

“Did you see that rat right now? I think I accidentally kissed it.” Ash hums, palms on his cheeks, faking shock.

“Oh— there is nothing you can say Ash.” Shorter laughs, swats his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure it had fleas… how embarrassing…” he groans, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Deny it all you want—it’s already going in my Ash journal.”

“Hmm? And how does tonights entry go?”

“Dear diary, not only did I make eye contact with Ash eight times tonight, he also touched my shoulder twice, bumped into me, brushed his hand against my arm, laughed at three of my jokes, stood on both my left and right side—“

“Your obsession is getting a little out of hand! I shouldn’t have fueled it.” Ash shakes his head solemnly. It’s impossible to feign sadness, disappointment right now. He breaks into laughter, ruining their bit.

“I just can’t help myself!” 

There's warmth, Ash leaning against his best friend. Pretend they’re on winter break. Pretend they have parents at home, pretend they have time to spare.   
They hold hands on the way home, and it doesn’t matter what it means. It’s the one thing in their lives that just doesn’t matter. 

  
—————-  
  


“What do you want for your birthday?”

“Nothing Ash.”

“Don't be like that. That's so annoying. Just tell me.”

“Hmm… maybe a lock of your hair—“

“Oh so you’re in a funny mood are you?” Ash scowls. Serves him right for being friends with a fucking wannabe comedian. 

Shorter smiles at him from the grass, giggling with an arm over his eyes. 

“I don’t care. Let’s just go downtown together. You can make me a friendship bracelet.” 

“I’m not making you a friendship bracelet.”

That’s exactly how Ash, age seventeen, is sitting on his bed, braiding six pieces of yarn together. Like a child. _Making a friendship bracelet._

The beads and string were free— Skip was happy to donate them to Ash’s cause. However, Ash’s time is precious. And it’s taken him at least two hours to figure this out. 

He picked all different colors, because Shorter’s clothes never match, and he’s writing ASH out in the beads, because he’s the best thing that ever happened to Shorter’s stupid ass. He also adds a little heart bead to the end of his own name. Only because Shorter loves him. Not the other way around. 

He’s also making one for himself. But he’s only going to wear it out of principle. 

They both look kind of shitty, but when Ash ties one around his wrist—

It’s kind of cool. Or maybe it’s embarrassing. Whatever, he figures he’s gonna die young anyways. What’s a little bullying going to do? Give him nightmares?

“Here.” Ash mumbles. He tosses Shorter a grocery bag. He bought him a bottle soda from the gas station, and stole the rest of the candy. Shorter Wong is the only person he is going to get banned from Circle K for. 

“You’re not going to sing to me?”

“You’re lucky I’m even talking to you.”

Shorter tilts his head back, laughs. Opens the bag with a grin and a thank you. 

He gets to the bottom.

“No fucking way.” He gasps, “it has your name!”

Ash can’t hide his smile, it’s so stupid. 

Shorter immediately puts on the bracelet. Ash flashes his matching one back at him.

“You have one too?!” 

“Sadly, yes.” Ash sighs, but he looks soft. 

Shorter looks at his bracelet, grinning, in thought. He looks back at Ash. 

“Yeah, I’m never taking it off as long as I live.”

“Good. You make me wear this stupid shit on my own we won’t be friends anymore.” 

“Fuck! We look so fucking cool!”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

  
————-

Marvin is heavy, rough, and cruel. It’s a dream that Ash has much too often, but still scares him all the same. There’s something about the flashing lights, saving the moment on an SD card, a computer, locking it in both time and his memory. As long as they exist, so will the man in the back of Ash’s head.

It’s what hurts the most, he thinks. That even after his survival, it will never be over. There is a before, and an after, and he can’t go back. 

The heavy breathing, the laughter, his tiny frame pliant and weak, Ash snaps awake, not even registering he was dreaming, he’s kicked the blankets off his body, cold but sweating, body shaking. 

“Ash?” Boy voice. 

“No— just don't— anymore—“

“It’s just me.” On a bed.

“Stop- please.”

“Ash.” 

Shorter’s face comes into view, hands on Ash’s shoulders. Ash breathes, in and out, heavy, eyes wide and zeroed in on his friend. Hard relief crosses his expression. 

“Sh-Shorter—“

“Shh.. you're good.” He mumbles, he moves back, sitting against the headboard. Holds his arms out. “You can come here. If you want.”

Ash shifts to where he’s sitting, laying himself down against his chest. He’s sturdy, warm, his hands never take. Never without asking, never what Ash can’t give. Ash cries, sharp inhales and exhales. He wishes that he knew Shorter back when the still frames of him were taken. Right after it happened, just so he could’ve gotten a hug. A hand in his. Comfort, affection, care. 

He hears a jingle from the doorway, watches the cat hop onto the bed. Shorter strokes Ash’s hair out of his face. 

“Even the kitty wants to help you.” Shorter teases. 

Ash sniffs, he’s done crying. 

“She’s saying ‘don’t cry mama!’” 

Ash huffs. “You’re the mama. Not me.”

“What?! That isn’t true.” Shorter laughs, pinching Ash’s cheek. Ash halfheartedly swats him away.

“Don't be mean.” Ash huffs. He could win any argument right now.

“Fine. I’m the mama.”

“Damn right.” Ash mumbles, but there’s no bite. 

Ash pretends his nightmare was stress induced, because he has a final next week, because he needs to write his college essay— because he has a graduation party to plan.   
  
He’s still just seventeen after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked this and let me know if you want more of this type from me!! I picture shorter being Ash’s silly counterpart, and I figure they laugh together often. I hope I got you to smile today :)  
> Don’t hesitate to drop you headcanons below! And remember love conquers all!


End file.
